There is a growing concern regarding the value for life in Nigeria. Every now and then, there emerges some troubling news regarding killings that cannot be justified by the law.
It seem the rule in the street that anyone accused of any crime, gets an instant judgement of death, jungle justice has for too long been operated in Nigeria.
Reported jungle justice in Nigeria Only recently the media was sent agog with news of an alleged homosexual who was beaten to death. The Nigerian law states that if found guilty of such a crime, the culprit is liable to about 14 years jail term, however, Akinnifesi Olumide Olubunmi was not given
the chance to stand trial.
Let it be said that this writing is not pro or anti gay rights because the same barbaric treatment is meted out to pickpockets, robbers, kidnappers and alleged witches across the country.
This piece has rather been written to promote the rights to life and to a fair hearing. It is written to spread the message of love which seem to have eluded Nigeria.
At a time when unity is a key element needed for the continued existence of Nigeria, these young Nigerian poets have taken their time to share in words the message that needs be heard.
Their poems stir conversations, ask questions with the hope that there is a chance for a lasting solution. Shall we operate under the rule of law, regardless what the crime is, regardless whose race is affected, regardless whose religion is involved?
Their poems stir conversations, ask questions with the hope that there is a chance for a lasting solution. Shall we operate under the rule of law, regardless what the crime is, regardless whose race is affected, regardless whose religion is involved?
burnt men a preacher said gay men are dead men. i wake up to the smell of burnt men in my veins,
i swear i do not know how they got there, sometimes i see fire in the mouths of young boys and all i want to do is kiss them to sleep. it’s not sunday but men will write fire on the skin of lovers and call it God’s word.
to kill a man place a tyre over his head, set it on fire but ashes are not dead men, they are bodies flying to freedom. even with chains you can’t stop a man from loving another man. the rains are here again,
bringing rivers to bodies on fire.
the preacher said gay men will burn in hell.
i swear my tongue burns
every time i say the word love,
i do not know
when men began to burn men
for saying the word love
but i know that a man in love
is so close to God,
he can hear his heart beat.
Dearest,
– to a friend learning about bipolar depression
I too have seen the sky go into a grey mood,
perhaps that’s why I think
being bipolar is like Christ
falling from the height of a woman’s bosom
into a bleeding nail.
I say tomorrow is an orphan
learning how to walk into a tear.
Understand, most days
my body is a battlefield
where a boy folds songs
into the belly of a horse
and gallops into the heart
of man drowning at sea.
Maybe I’m wrong
& all I want is the calmness of water after storms.
You know how sadness
can beat a body into an altar
in the mouth of an empty room
& at a later time lift the body into the feathers of a bird making love to songs, perhaps I’m trying to immerse my body in yours & tear you into fragments
of the sea rushing
into my head.
I admit I’ve eaten the finger of God
& I’m tired of praying, my body has touched the edge of the sky & the sea prepares to drown my body in a room filled with memories,
if I’m honest I will tell you about a face searching the sky for the outcome of a rolled dice in a house filled with men learning the name
of the weight in their bones.